


Remembering to forget

by johnmykawaiiwaifu



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Sadstuck, Scratching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-01
Updated: 2012-05-01
Packaged: 2017-11-04 15:23:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/395327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnmykawaiiwaifu/pseuds/johnmykawaiiwaifu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Dave Strider, and The Scratch is about to hit and you're scared. Not so scared to forget or to end the game, but scared to leave John. Scared for both him and you and forgetting. </p><p>Forgetting is just fogetting though, unless it isn't. Then they call it something else. Then they call it Scratching.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembering to forget

Your name is Dave Strider, and you’ve never been more scared. Not of something most people are scared of, and not of physical pain or any type of misfortune you’d ever experienced before. This was the heaviest, most horrifying and soul crushing sense of dread and regret you’d ever felt. And you hadn’t done anything wrong; in fact it was because something was coming. Rushing closer and closer every second, bearing down on you from a great distance, and you knew it’d be here soon enough. 

The Scratch. 

“Dave?” John tugged on your sleeve, and you could hear the fear in his voice that you were trying to hide. You figured the least you could do was be brave for John. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m kind of scared right now.” 

And he had every right to be. It was one hell of an adventure while it lasted, but something went wrong. Something that probably could have been prevented if you’d listened to Rose, but you didn’t. At the time all you were thinking was “Fuck Rose, its adventure time.” And then you killed a bunch of stuff, got blown up and brought back, finally met John and now this thing is coming. The Scratch, the thing that would take you far, far back in time before you ever knew about Rose or Jade or John and you’d never meet them again. You’d grow old, your bro would die a natural, un-ironic death and you would to, eventually. 

And you didn’t want that to happen. You didn’t want to forget John. 

“Yeah, John. I am too.” 

And then the horizon lit up green, and you knew it was The Scratch. It was the only thing that could possibly do that, and you felt John slip his hand in yours, the other hand lifting up to your cheek and turning your face towards his. He leaned up towards you, closing his eyes behind his glasses and getting so close you could smell the dampness of the land of wind and shade on his clothes. But you pushed him away. 

“Dave?” He sounded hurt, and you really couldn’t blame him. 

“It’s just…” You looked towards The Scratch, too close for comfort now, going to hit you any second. This was the last time for you to have John, and you pulled him into a hug, trying to hold on for as long as you could. 

“I don’t want that to be the last thing to happen before I forget.” 

Suddenly John pulled away, eyes bright, tearing a seam on his hood and ripping off a piece of bright blue fabric. He thrust it into your hands, pulling you back into a hug. 

“Something to remember me by.” He said, the irony of the fact you were about to forget lost in the emotions of the moment. 

And then The Scratch hit you, and it was like being plunged into a pool of ice, no pain, just brain numbing cold. And John slipped from your grasp, and you couldn’t call out his name no matter how hard you tried. He wasn’t there anymore; it was just you and the cold. 

A few seconds later you were in your room, sitting on the edge of your bed, the memory of John fresh in your mind. You jumped up, stunned. Did The Scratch not work? Would you still remember John? And then you collapsed, shades falling off and your mind a complete and total blank. 

When you next woke up, you had a killer headache and a horrible sense you should be remembering something. You searched the back of your mind, coming up with a total blank and standing up to go get something to eat. You were fucking hungry. 

A scrap of blue fabric fell from your pocket and you stared at it hard. You didn’t have anything of that color in your apartment, where the hell did it come from? And as you stared at it the nagging feeling you should know what it was slipped away, and you picked it up off the ground and threw it in the trash. 

No use hanging onto something you couldn’t remember.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what I just wrote but I think it was sadstuck


End file.
